Detail
Turning countless pages
puzzled over commas
full-stops
and maze of tumid lines
void of breath for thought in
fathoms of verbiage
we looked between
stanzas and blurry riddles
sniffed hidden meanings
argued about blasphemies
called on the smooth-faced poet
gray hair philosopher and
they agreed that that god was dead
and the masses danced in the agora
convinced that He never
appears obvious apparent
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 